


dark matter

by thunderylee



Series: love february 2021 [12]
Category: NEWS (Japan Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, IN SPACE!, Other, Serenading, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Space is too quiet.
Relationships: Kato Shigeaki/Koyama Keiichiro
Series: love february 2021 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138346
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	dark matter

**Author's Note:**

> love february day 16: space! i was lamenting the difficulty of using they/them pronouns in 3rd pov so i thought i'd take the opportunity to practice. anything goes in au right? 😊 the song koyama sings is tegoshi's old solo stars 🥺🥺

Something nobody tells you about outer space is that it’s deafeningly quiet.

Shige knows that, logically in their brain, but when they’re working on the hull of the ship it still feels surreal to hear _nothing_. No bang of tools against metal or footsteps in magnetic boots. Inside, there are all kinds of sounds, even in zero gravity. Out here, it feels like Shige's ears have suddenly stopped working.

“Koyama,” they call out, careful not to fog up the helmet as they push the comm button. “Talk to me. It’s too quiet.”

“Still not used to the vacuum, huh?” Koyama’s melodic voice flows pleasantly into Shige’s ears, comforting like a hug. “I should make you do the repairs more often.”

“I don’t like it,” Shige grumbles. “Fucks with my head.”

“Probably because we weren’t made to exist out here, right? Humans need to be where there is atmosphere, and not just to breathe.”

“Yet here we are.”

Koyama hums noncommittally, and even that feels nice. Apparently Shige’s just craving any kind of vibration in their ears. It’s only been a little over an hour since they cleared the airlock, but there’s still a lot of work to be done. Music or audiobooks would be too distracting, but Koyama’s voice is perfect.

“Keep talking.”

“What do you want me to talk about?”

“Something. Anything. Tell me a story.”

Koyama’s chuckle has Shige closing their eyes, letting it wash all over their body. If they weren’t so desperate for the auditory stimulation, they would probably laugh at themself. It _is_ a bit of an overreaction.

“You’re the writer, not me,” Koyama says.

“Have to pay the bills somehow. Especially since we’re not pulling any jobs right now.”

They can almost see Koyama frown. It’s probably not the best time to bring that up, not to mention Koyama is undoubtedly well aware of that as captain of their independent hauler company. Business has slowed down since the Great Migration to other star systems; people aren’t shipping interplanetary as much. The two of them may need to find a new market soon, at least if they want to keep their ship running.

Somehow, the thought of docking at a space station indefinitely scares Shige more than being in the middle of a vast expanse of nothing. At least out here, they only have to put up with Koyama on a regular basis. Working for someone else doesn’t sound too appealing either.

“Sorry,” Shige adds when they don’t hear anything for a good minute. “You don’t need me to tell you that, huh.”

Koyama sighs, and Shige rolls their eyes at Koyama purposely turning on the comm just so Shige can hear the exasperation. “I certainly do not, but I get it. One thing at a time though, yeah? Finish the repair, then we can get drunk and whine about humanity evolving without us.”

“That’s a little dramatic...” Shige mutters.

“Gotta keep things exciting somehow.”

Shige thinks about arguing for the sake of making noise, but decides against it. They’ll just have to focus to concentrate through the silence. It’s not impossible, just a hassle. Having nothing occupying their mind makes it easier for the bad thoughts to take over.

Then Koyama’s voice reappears, the tones varying in a slow rhythm. Koyama is _singing_. Shige recognizes it as an old song by an intergalactic idol they both used to like, just in a much lower octave and without musical accompaniment. Shige finds that it sounds better this way.

It’s a song about missed connections and looking up at the same stars, which Shige finds strangely apt since all they can see around them is stars. There are probably some planets too, but Shige can’t tell the difference from this distance. In space, everything is a tiny speck of light.

This particular idol was known for their vocalizing riffs and Koyama imitates them to the fullest, leaving Shige in chuckles that they do _not_ share on the comm. Mostly because they don’t want Koyama to stop singing.

_Like those sparkling, bright stars_ _  
_ _I want to shine in your heart_ _  
_ _I vow to always be here next to you like this_ _  
_ _Gazing at the same stars together_

The drop of liquid floating in front of Shige’s face throws them off for a second, then they realize it came from their eye. Their heart was so moved by Koyama’s voice that an actual tear squeezed its way out in zero gravity. Crying isn’t a foreign experience to Shige, particularly lately, but it’s been a long time since it happened as an emotional response to a real live person’s direct action.

“How was it?”

“Just like you, always wanting praise,” Shige teases.

“I literally just serenaded you in open space. You could be a little appreciative.”

“I made a tear!”

“What, really?”

“I did.” Shige blinks twice to ignite the eye camera and snaps a shot to transmit to Koyama before the teardrop crashes back into their face. “See?”

“I’m so honored.”

“Don’t sound so sarcastic.”

“Shige, you cry during movies that aren’t even sad.”

Shige scoffs. “ _You_ cry every time you see an animal.”

“We should just rename our ship the Crybaby.”

“Then we would _never_ get any jobs.”

Shige laughs good-naturedly with Koyama as they get back to work. There’s still a lot more of the hull to repair, but Shige doesn’t feel as defeated as they did before. Koyama’s song seems to have sent a burst of energy Shige’s way, replaying in Shige's memory to combat the excruciating silence.

No matter what happens, at least they can still look at the stars together.


End file.
